The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 717

“But it’s fine, really. Sammie reacted just in time and pulled me out of the way.”

“Sammie’s a damn good bodyguard,” Alexander replied, his voice cold and clipped. “With him around, I won’t let a single hair on your head come to harm.”

Rebecca studied the tense lines of his face, then let out a soft, teasing laugh. “So, the whole reason you wanted me to pretend to be your girlfriend in public… was just to use me as a shield for Danielle?”

Alexander fell silent.

Rebecca understood exactly what that silence meant.

“And what about now?” she asked.

“You won’t have to do it anymore.” His tone was flat, almost indifferent.

He lifted his head, gaze drifting toward the second floor. “I want Danielle by my side. It’s the only place she’ll ever be truly safe.”

Rebecca blinked, then shook her head with a trace of exasperation. “Does she know? Honestly… she probably hates you more than anyone.”

Alexander pressed his fingers to his brow, rubbing at the tension building there. Yes, she absolutely should hate him.

His voice came out low and rough. “She should hate me…”

He paused, his eyes steady, his tone even more detached. “She’ll never love me again. Maybe… it’s better if she just hates me a little more.”

“Alexander, what are you really trying to do?”

Rebecca stared at him, unable to make sense of the man before her.

If he knew Danielle hated him, why force her to stay?

“I’m going to keep her with me, whether she wants it or not,” Alexander said, looking directly at her.

Rebecca was left speechless.

Danielle seemed oblivious, holding her posture, unmoving amidst the scrutiny.

Alexander watched her solitary figure, surrounded by a sea of judgmental stares. He stepped forward, weaving through the crowd until he reached her side, and knelt beside her.

His movement was calm and unapologetic, immediately drawing every eye in the room.

The whispers died instantly. Shock rippled through the mourners—no one had expected Alexander to stand up for his ex-wife so openly.

The funeral parlor fell silent, broken only by the soft crackle of burning candles.

Danielle sensed his presence and glanced sideways, confusion and wariness flickering across her face, as if to ask what he was doing.

Alexander didn’t look at her. His eyes remained on the portrait, his voice steady and unyielding as he spoke, each word deliberate: “After the funeral, we’re getting married again.”

Danielle froze, as if she’d just heard something utterly impossible. She stared at Alexander, searching his face, certain she must have misheard.